Humans
and Angels
Isaiah
6:1-8
Speaking of God, John Milton said: “…his state is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed and post o’er
land and ocean without rest…” (Sonnet On
His Blindness)
Milton’s picture of heaven conjures images of angels
flying hither and thither on divine errands, moving at unimaginable speeds
wherever the Holy One commands, anxious to do God’s bidding. We get much the same picture from Isaiah’s
vision in the temple. God is enthroned
“high and lifted up,” seated in divine majesty, overwhelming the temple and
Isaiah with sight, sound, and presence.
Hovering around the Lord of hosts are the seraphim, the highest order of
angels. We sense constant motion. These divine creatures are there to praise
God unceasingly, and to perform whatever tasks God commands. We are overwhelmed by the awesomeness of God,
the majesty of God. Here is a King who
can command seemingly limitless messengers to fulfill God’s least instruction.
I think angels fascinate us because we don’t know quite
how to take them. How do we relate to
beings so powerful and mobile, whose only functions are to praise and
obey? We speak fondly of our guardian angels. We know they exist—if they exist—not because we desire or deserve them, but because
God wills them. We respect them for what
they do for us, but we know we have no power over them.
A few months ago I discovered a piece of paper in my
files entitled, “Scraps.” That’s the only
identification I have. There is no hint
as to what they are scraps of, or whose scraps they are. Yet the statements are so powerful that they
command my attention. One is about
angels.
“The angels,” he said, “have no senses; their experience
is purely intellectual and spiritual.
That is why we know something about God which they don’t. There are particular aspects of His love and
joy which can be communicated to a created being only by sensuous
experience. Something of God which the
Seraphim can never quite understand flows into us from the blue of the sky, the
taste of honey, the delicious embrace of water whether cold or hot, and even
from sleep itself.”
Several years ago Hollywood made a movie called Michael.
The archangel comes from heaven to bring two young people together—sort
of a guardian angel idea, the kind of thing we like to think of angels doing—even
as we know it’s got to be somewhere well below God’s list of important world
affairs to influence.
Michael is played, unlikely as it may sound, by John
Travolta. He has been given a task which
he must complete, but he cannot take part in the joys of earth. He doesn’t sleep. While the person he is interacting with
spends the night in peaceful slumber, he stands—watching, waiting—in the corner
of the room. Throughout the movie there
is a clear disconnect between the angel and humans. Neither can truly experience the other’s
world.
In Psalm 8, David says to God, “What are human beings
that you are mindful of them…? You have
made them a little lower than the angels…”
A little lower than the angels perhaps in some things, but significantly
more important than angels in others.
Human beings, not angels are the crown of God’s creation. This world in all its beauty was created for
human beings to enjoy, not angels. God
sent Jesus to this world to reconcile human beings, not angels. Of course, we might argue that, apart from
Satan and his fallen angels the heavenly beings don’t need reconciling, but I
think that misses the point.
God loves humankind enough to create a world—a
universe—for our pleasure and use. God
gives us gifts and blessings that overwhelm us with their generosity. No angel can say that.
No comments:
Post a Comment